


Without You

by eternallydaydreaming



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 12:10:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7934116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternallydaydreaming/pseuds/eternallydaydreaming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does one move one when your greatest pillar has crumbled before your eyes? Set immediately after the 2012 series season 3 finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Without You

“Aaaaaah!” The deep guttural screams bounced off the metallic walls.

It felt like a dream – no….a horrible nightmare. None of this could have been real. For the first time in his life, all of his senses went numb, like he was walking through a perpetual haze, barely registering the presence of his brothers and friends. The tears that streamed down his face, however, were very much real. The two salty trails connected at his chin, splashing teardrops splashed into a growing puddle on the metal floor.

Raphael had tried to convince himself that this spaceship could not possibly have been real. Maybe he had hit his head during the fight. Seriously, the damn thing just conveniently appeared out of nowhere in the moment of their greatest need. The world was ending for crying out loud! The entire planet was sucked through the black hole those mother-fucking Triceratons created. This was all their fault. If they hadn’t shown up, none of this would have happened. Wait! – they were after the Kraang so as usual this was all the Kraang’s fault. If it wasn’t for them, they would have a home to go to. If it wasn’t for them, the Triceratons would never have threatened Earth. They wouldn’t have desperately sought help from their mortal enemy. Wouldn’t have had their backs stabbed by a single act of betrayal in a brief moment of convenient opportunity. If it wasn’t for the Kraang, their father wouldn’t be dead!

Raphael’s blood ran cold as he recalled the moment. It was as if the world was moving in slow motion. He saw it coming but was powerless to stop it. Splinter was racing to shut down the black hole generator. He was so consumed in saving the world he never stopped to consider the danger of turning his back to his enemy – the ultimate martial arts sin! He had put too much trust in the ridiculous notion that Shredder had an ounce of honor. Nah, Shredder was a true ninja – master of deception…opportunist…murderer! That bastard drove one of his claws deep into Splinter’s back, impaling it through his abdomen. Splinter’s blood coated the cold steel. The look on his Splinter’s was not one of pain but shock. What were his final thoughts, Raphael wondered. Perhaps it was “how could you?” 

But while Raphael sought comfort in believing Splinter had not felt pain, Raphael hungered for the sensation. Having not been convinced yet that his new experiences were rooted in reality, Raphael sought for tangible proof of his own existence. Maybe they were dead and roaming purgatory. Maybe he was dying and was hallucinating the spaceship as his version of the boat ride across the River Styx. 

So here he stood, pounding his fists into his walls. He delivered a steady stream of punches, alternating each arm, precisely landing on the same spot on the metal slab. The first punch was enough to tell him that the wall was indeed real. A ball of pain entered his fist and shot through his arm, up his shoulder. The second punch reinforced the original proof. Yet, Raphael insisted to continue assaulting the wall. Punch after punch. Raphael started with clean, perfectly executed strikes, extending his arms in front of himself, but soon turned to quick, choppy hook punches to the ribs of an imaginary opponent. Raphael maximized his impact by turning his body into the turn, putting him momentum behind his fist. Each impact added to the growing bloody smear on cold steel…or whatever weird alien metal made up this spaceship. There was no denying that all of this was real, and in that moment he went from wanting to prove his humanity was intact to trying to disprove it all. However, he could not deny the hard steel wall. Could not deny the red blood smeared on silver slab. Could not deny the resonating pain in his arms. Could not deny the raw, cracked knuckles. Yet Raphael refused to show the wall any mercy and kept on punching it despite the pain, the blood, and the hot tears rolling down his face. Pained grunts turned to strained cries as he replayed Shredder stabbing Splinter over and over in his mind.

Exhaustion finally embraced Raphael. Each punch steadily lost power and purpose as he struck the wall limply. His yells melted into choked gasps. Then he was finally spent. The gas tank ran dry. Defeated, Raphael turned his back to the wall and slumped to the ground, breaking down into wild sobs. It has been a long time since he sat alone and sobbed like a little boy, but in his solitude he was free to express himself, not that he cared if anyone walked in on him and witnessed him completely pathetic. He just preferred being alone right now. He had nothing to say to anyone. Hell he barely was coherent in his own mind.

Finally he no longer had the energy to cry anymore. Tears began to dry and his sobs quieted to a soft, gentle breathes. His chest gently heaved with each deep inhale. Green eyes stared blankly into the distance. Then his entire being went numb again, forcing him to question once again if all of this really had transpired in the past twenty-four hours. As he stared at the wall, Raphael contemplated the last time he ever felt like this. He really couldn’t remember feeling this numb. There never was a reason to. Sure he almost witnessed Splinter dying once before, but Mikey gave him that small ray of hope. It wasn’t certain. Splinter was still breathing when he was tossed into the drain. 

“Sensei's a master ninja. He's gonna be just fine. It's gonna be alright,” Mikey had whispered while tightly hugging him. 

That brief interaction was enough to keep Raphael sane. It was how he survived living at April’s farmhouse. But how was he supposed to survive this? What he witnessed was a certainty – Splinter was dead! - and his ray of hope was dead along with him. This wasn’t supposed to happen! It couldn’t happen! Should have been forbidden to happen! Raphael was only fifteen! He still needed his father’s guidance, his sensei’s teachings. In a world in which he was convinced a mutant could never be accepted by the humans, Splinter was the only reason Raphael had any sense of compassion for others.

\- 10 years earlier –

The tears wouldn’t stop! Couldn’t stop! And he refused to leave his room until he ran out of tears! Now he started to believe he would never leave his room. What would everyone say if they saw him? They all would certainly laugh at “Big Tough Raph” for being a bigger cry baby than Mikey! Staring at the little bundle in his arms, Raphael felt a fresh round of tears threatening to spill. He bit his lip to suppress his sobs.

“Raph! You have to come out! Dinner time!”

A rapid succession of pounds incessantly drummed on his door. Raphael bit his lip harder and hunched his back as the banging quickly worked his nerves. God help him Raphael tried his best to keep his temper under control. He didn’t need to bring any attention on himself. If they could just leave him alone….

“Go away, Mikey! I don’t want dinner!”

The banging immediately ceased yet it was as if he could feel Michelangelo behind the door. He stopped but wasn’t leaving.

“But Tousan said…”

“I – Don’t – Care!” He roared, desperate to be rid of the pest.

Little feet scurried away and Raphael while he heard his brother’s voice fade away he still caught the cries of “Tousan!”

_Great!_

An irritated growl rippled through his throat knowing what was coming next. Not long after Michelangelo had run off, a soft rasp at the door confirmed his suspicions. Even though his father was on the other side, Raphael refused to respond.

“Raphael,” Splinter called out softly. He heard his father’s concerns but still remained silent. A few moments passed before Splinter ventured to call out again, “Raphael.”

Then Raphael heard the lock tick a couple of times before the latch turned and the door creaked open. Raphael kept his back to his father, too ashamed to reveal his weakness. The door gently shut and footsteps approached the bed. His mattress lifted Raphael up as Splinter sat down behind him. Neither spoke for a bit.

“Why would you not come out for dinner?”

“Wasn’t hungry.” The response was curt. Raphael flinched slightly, knowing his disrespect wouldn’t be tolerated. 

“My son, look at me.”

The soft tone drew Raphael’s gaze to meet Splinter’s deep brown eyes. Splinter watched as tears traced deep green cheeks. Then he lowered his gaze to the bunched up white towel in Raphael’s little hands.

“What are you holding?”

Raphael pulled the bundle closer to his body, shielding it like a prized possession.

“Raphael, please let me see.”

The little turtle slowly unwrapped the towel, revealing the bird. Once fully exposed, Splinter noted the unnatural bend in the pigeon’s neck. A round of uncontrollable sobs snapped his attention back onto his son. He stared at the normally composed turtle with wide eyes. Splinter could not recall a day since the toddler years in which Raphael actually cried unless all this time he kept his emotions locked in his room just like he had attempted to do tonight.

“They were so mean! He couldn’t protect even protect himself,” Raphael wailed.

“Who?”

“The boys!”

“Raphael, what boys?”

“Those stupid human boys!” Raphael screamed in anger. “Why?! Why do they do stuff like that?! They laughed when they slingshotted him in the head. He was so…so…the little guy was pretty messed up. Then one boy said ‘bet it’s easy to just finish him…bet I can do it with my bare hands.’ Then his friends dared him to do it. They said they betted he couldn’t do it…that he’d be too chicken. So he grabbed the pigeon. The snap sounded so loud. It echoed through the sewer. Then those jerks laughed and said ‘cool.’ They thought it was cool to kill a bird! Humans just love to torture and kill. I hate humans!”

Splinter’s eyes widened more as he listened to the terrible tale. Then his eyes softened with sadness at the last sentence – “I hate humans.”

“Raphael, you must not let one act of cruelty paint your perception of all humans. Most are kind…”

“No, they’re not! It’s all they know. They have a history of doing this!”

A quizzical look forced Splinter to furrow his eyebrows. Raphael met the look with a stern scowl and an eye-roll. Apparently his father needed to be educated.

“On the news they were talking about the anniversary of the whole civil rights stuff. You know, if you had a different skin color you were forced to use different water fountains and bathrooms and everything! White humans treated everyone else like they were diseased but humans just all look a little different. And in those history books you brought home they talked about how white humans always murdered anyone different, like Indians, and if you thought things differently you were forced to think like how others wanted you to believe or you could be killed, like what those Spanish people did a long time ago. Then those Jewish people were like all killed in that war. And 9/11! Humans just like to have wars and kill people and now they kill animals for fun. It’s not just a one-time thing. It’s just what they do! I mean come on - someone is killed like every day in New York!”

Stunned by shock, Splinter sat staring at his son. As if reading the question on his face, Raphael simply stated, “The pictures made me curious. So I made Donnie read the books to me....and the newspaper.”

Splinter nodded in understanding. He sat and contemplated for a minute. Then he finally asked, “What else were in those books?”

Raphael’s head tilted in confusion.

“Well surely the history books talked about things other than war. This planet is quite old and has a lot of history. What about the rise of civilizations and the spectacular monuments that were built? What about advancements in technology and engineering? The birth of art and culture? The people who dedicated their lives to serving the poor and never asked for anything in return.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Sounds like make-believe people. Like the elves that make the Christmas present for random kids.”

Splinter couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy’s quick wit, but quickly recomposed himself.

“Raphael, let me tell you the story of a man. He was a carefree young man. Always had a smile on his face. But behind that smile was a man with many responsibilities. He was a husband with a wife who did not understand why he held so hard onto his family’s old traditions. He was a father who wished he could spend more time with his daughter. One day when the daughter became ill with a fever, he did not hesitate to devote all his time to comfort her as she fought to heal. On top of all this, he also cared for his increasingly ailing elderly father. Yet despite his hardships, he shouldered the burden and focused on the beauty he had in his life. His spirit never broke because of that. This same man was taught in his childhood to put others before himself. So when the old neighbor lady could not shop for her own groceries, he would take her shopping list and brought the groceries back for her. Raphael, there is kindness in the world. You must give the human world a chance to show it to you.”

Green eyes stared coldly, unmoved by the story.

“Otousan, you can’t just make up a story to tell me humans are good. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I did not make up the story. It was a true tale. I know. I am that man with the sick father. I was the boy who shopped for the old woman.”

Raphael’s face dropped into an incredulous look before rolling his eyes in disbelief.

“Nice try. I ain’t that gullible. Mikey probably would believe that though.”

A sigh escaped Splinter’s lips. His fingers lightly tapped his jade cane in annoyance as his mind raced on how to approach the subject.

“Raphael, I was not always the rat that you see. I was once human.”

An eyebrow ridge cocked in confusion. Had he really heard that correctly? Human?

“But….how?”

Splinter raised his hand to silence the turtle before the impending onslaught of questions could continue.

“That is a story for another day. Preferably with your brothers present, but know that I am not deceiving you. I was born and lived as a human for most of my life. Now I live the life of a rat who cares for four wonderful little turtles. I have seen compassion and kindness, Raphael. You must trust me and give the humans a chance to prove themselves to you. You must not view every human as a murderer much like you do not wish for humans to view you as a monster just because you are different from them. Come my, son. Let us give the bird a last act of compassion and provide him a final resting place.”

\- Present -

Splinter had been right. He was always right. Splinter had lived a much longer life and actually understood how the world worked. Especially since he had experienced life as a human – an experience Raphael will never be able to understand. He had to rely on his father’s wisdom and trust in his advice and judgment. 

_But Otousan was gone now….forever._

He lightly banged his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling as fresh tears rolled down the sides of his face. Who was supposed to guide him now? Who was going to teach him understand the inner workings of human psyche – the things he could never understand himself? Who was going to keep him level headed?

_What am I supposed to do without you?_


	2. Memories

Memories

Whoosh….whoosh…whoosh…

Years of practice indeed made for perfection. He had been doing this for so long he didn’t even need to think about what he was doing. He just did it! No point in being modest about. After all it was pretty much the only thing he was good.

The nunchaku twirled gracefully. The gentle clinks of the chain bounced off the equally metallic walls. Michelangelo walked down the hallway, spinning the wooden weapon, shifting it from one hand to the other and back. All modesty aside, he had no problem bragging how easily he can shift to autopilot and multi-task in this manner. None of his brothers could say the same. Donnie would totally trip himself if he tried to do this with his bo. Leo was only good at well-rehearsed kata - not at spontaneous bursts of freestyled antics. 

But today, Michelangelo was not showing off. He was meditating. Sure it wasn’t conventional. Leo would definitely have lectured him on proper meditation. Must sit down! Back straight! Eyes closed! Deep steady breathing! But hell, the Mike-ster was never one for convention. Everyone was quick to remind him that. He can’t change who he was. After all he was the only brother who focused better on his “school work” while blaring loud music, which effectively annoyed everyone else - especially Leo. He was certain it bothered Donnie too but he was always cool about it. Then again he actually understood how Mikey’s brain worked…well kind of. He did diagnose the whole attention deficit part. The hyperactivity aspect was pretty obvious. Anyway… 

As of right now, however, Michelangelo’s mind was completely shut down. Had his brain ever done that before? Nope! There was always something going on up in that noggin. On topic, off topic, in lala-land. Didn’t matter – there was always something to think about. Although he currently rather not think. For once it was easy to push everything to the side and just stare blankly ahead as he wandered done the metallic halls, swinging his nunchaku. Despite his trance, he easily avoided colliding with April or hitting her skull with dense wood, but beyond that he didn’t acknowledge her presence.

“Aaaaaaaahhhh!”

Michelangelo stilled his nunchaku, breaking his kata. Bang, bang! He froze in place as he listened to the ruckus. His blood ran cold knowing his brother was trying to drown his emotional pain with physical pain, and this time there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t just walk into the room and give Raph a hug and tell it was gonna be okay. Not this time. This time there were no words of comfort. It was Michelangelo’s only real skill and now he was useless. No matter the situation, he was the one who always found the silver lining, held optimism despite bad situations. The ability usually pissed off or depressed his brothers when they couldn’t grasp the hope, but in the end they appreciated Michelangelo for it. 

The bangs grew weaker and spaced further apart. Then it was silent. At least for a few seconds before the sobs seeped between the cracks in the doorframe. Raph needed his bro but there was nothing Michelangelo could do for him. Hell, Mikey was at a loss himself. For once he was in despair and saw no light, no silver lining. He needed the comfort as much as Raph did but there was no one who could provide it. No shoulder to cry on. Tears welled up to capacity before trickling down his cheeks. A heavy, shaky sigh escaped his lips. With slumped shoulders, Michelangelo willed his legs to move forward - though they felt as if they were chained to giant metal balls.

He trudged down the halls until he came upon a room with an immense window tracing the circumference the rounded room. Normally the sight would have enchanted him: stars everywhere you turned, plumes of multicolored space gases, distant galaxies. No planets though. Maybe they weren’t close enough to one. Wouldn’t matter right now anyway. His current state of mind prevented him from appreciating the universe’s beauty. It was too soon. Everything he looked at reminded him of Splinter’s final moments. In fact this view was the last thing he had remembered. The Triceratons’ machine had torn a hole in their world, exposing Earth to the vast expanse of deep space. Black sky littered with sparkling stars. The black hole sucked everyone up into it. Well everyone except for the _lucky_ few. Why? Why should they have been spared? Forced to watch their father leave them? Granted he was already gone. Shredder saw to that. But they didn’t even get to say a proper good-bye. Or make a memorial in his honor. They were robbed of everything in just a few short seconds.

Michelangelo’s mind trailed to those events that had taken place no more than 24 hours prior. His mind had barely processed Shredder’s blade enter and then exit Splinter’s body. It was so unreal like a movie prop. Dying like that wasn’t supposed to happen to the good guys. However, the sickening sound of tearing flesh confirmed the reality of it all. Then Splinter’s body fell limp. They all had rushed over quick enough for Splinter to die in their arms. Not enough time had elapsed between Splinter’s final breath to when his body was stolen by the black hole. And just like that, he was gone forever.

This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to work. Splinter deserved a proper funeral. They needed to say their farewells before sending his soul to Heaven. Michelangelo banged his head against the window and allowed it to rest there. Heavy eyelids fell, hiding his teary baby blue irises, and thrusted Michelangelo into a deeper darkness than space itself.

. . .

“Michelangelo? What are you doing?”

Michelangelo gasped and jumped up in alarm, banging his head against the kitchen table. 

_Itai!_

He rubbed his head gingerly. As he tried to scramble out, a jar of dark blue paint knocked over coating the floor in a wet mess.

_I should have laid down more paper!_

The nervous turtle twirled to face his father while keeping his hands concealed behind his back. Michelangelo plastered the biggest grin possible but ended up looking more suspicious than innocent. 

“Why were you under the table?”

Splinter’s eyes were gentle yet curious. It was a look Michelangelo was familiar with. Donnie made it a point to mention often that no one will ever understand the puzzle that was Michelangelo’s mind.

“Um, no reason,” he lied…poorly.

Splinter cocked a quizzical eyebrow and stroked his beard.

“What is behind your back?” he inquired.

“My hands.”

That was not a lie! Michelangelo bit his bottom lip as if unable to keep a dire secret but fought hard to contain his urge. Splinter must have sensed his son’s predicament and turned to leave him in peace.

“Michelangelo, you have quite the mess under the table. When you have finished, all of it must be cleaned up otherwise I fear we will have blue footprints all over the house after dinner.”

“Hai!” Michelangelo chirped with a wide smile and carefully watched as Splinter disappeared behind the cloth partition separating the kitchen from the family room. Once he felt the coast was clear, Michelangelo dove back under the table, grabbed the fine tip paintbrush, and coated the bristle in bright blue paint.

A few hours passed before Michelangelo was seen again. The little turtle raced into the dojo with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Splinter’s eyes snapped open as he was abruptly roused from his deep meditation. He barely recognized the green blur as Michelangelo tackled him. The force knocked Splinter’s head into the tree that occupied the center of the room. The child buried his face deep into the fabric of the yukata, soaking it with his tears. His body jerked as he sniffled. Splinter placed a hand on the back of Michelangelo’s head and gently stoked it.

“My son, what troubles you?”

“I hate my brothers! They’re all jerks!”

Splinter peeled the child from his body and tilted Michelangelo’s head up, forcing him to look into the elder’s eyes.

“That was not a nice thing to say. What is this about?”

The turtle rubbed his snotty snout and attempted to tell his tale between choked sobs.

“So, I was working on my project today and was super proud when I finished. So I showed everyone and they all made fun of it! Raph said my spelling sucks. Leo said that I screwed up the kanji. And Donnie….Donnie didn’t care and told me to get out of his room. But I did distract him and he electrocuted himself while working on his thingamajig. But he did calling me a nuisance. No one ever says anything nice about me.”

The last statement initiated another round of wails. Michelangelo furiously rubbed the tears, smearing the wetness all over his face along with globs of slimy snot. Splinter gently captured the small hands in his and held them down so he could see his son’s face.

“Bring me this project of yours….”

“No!”

Deep brown eyes widened in shock at the abrupt and uncharacteristically rude response. The child was so lost in his thoughts he did not even register his father’s expression. As he fell deeper into his despair, Michelangelo’s cries grew shriller. In order to snap him back to the world, Splinter grasped Michelangelo by his shoulders and gently shook him back to reality.

“My son, listen to me. Why do you not wish to show me your project?”

“C-cause…it was supposed to be a gift…for you…”

The rat’s face softened as the words touched his heart. It was no wonder the child was taking the criticism so hard. The boy who normally took obstacles in stride rarely had his spirits crushed. Now Splinter fully understood.

“Michelangelo, I would like to see your gift.”

Blue eyes turned away in shame as Michelangelo shook his head “no.”

“Please,” Splinter requested firmly but with a hint of a plea that the turtle could not turn down.

With a heavy sigh, Michelangelo retrieved the item from the kitchen and returned to the dojo. In the tiny green hands was a white mug. Blue flowers adorned the once bare ceramic. Thick fingers obscured Splinter’s view of the writing the graced the middle of the mug. Once he stood in front of Splinter, Michelangelo handed over the mug for his father’s inspection. As the mug enter his long thin hands, Splinter’s eyes locked on the clumsily written words of “#1 Ded.” Splinter turned the mug around and inspected the corresponding phrase written in kanji. The symbols were correct but were written with a nervous hand resulting in squiggly lines forming the characters. All the while Michelangelo kept his eyes to the ground to hide his embarrassment.

“Michelangelo, this is the most wonderful gift.”

An eye ridge rose skeptically. Pleading eyes wanted to find truth in the words but the damage of brotherly taunts burdened the boy’s heart. Splinter scooped the youngster into his lap and resumed his inspection of the mug. The handle had broken off at some point – most likely the reason it had been tossed out to begin with. Large globs of dried glued poked out through the cracks. If one looked closely, there was evidence of an old faded design that had once graced the overused mug but most of it was now covered up with the fresh paint.

“This mug will serve well when I make my morning tea. The flowers – they are the blossoms of the Hamato clan’s symbol, are they not?”

The little green head bobbed up and down.

“I spelled ‘Dad’ wrong though. Raph called me stupid ‘cause of it. Said I should have asked how to spell so I didn’t ruin it.”

The sorrow surrounding the insult pained Splinter. The boys could be so caring of each other and yet so cruel in their words. Raphael was the most blunt and uncensored of them.

“But Michelangelo, you have just started to learn how to read English. You cannot expect to be a master without practice. And your kanji was done properly.”

“It’s ugly. It looks like it’s shivering ‘cause I can’t draw straight lines.”

“Again practice will produce steady hands. I am curious though as to what prompted you to make such a thoughtful gift.”

“It’s Father’s Day. I heard the kids on the surface talk about it yesterday. They were asking each other what they’re doing for their dads. I wanted to make a gift to show how much I love you. But I ruined it so it’s not a perfect gift.”

Splinter turned the boy around and pulled him close to his chest. “Of course it’s perfect because you poured your love into a single gift. The cup is a physical symbol of your feelings, but I will always hold your love and thoughtfulness in my heart.”

. . .

A sorrowful tear rolled Michelangelo’s cheek yet his heart fluttered with glee at the memory. Warmth seemed to suddenly envelop his entire being. He lifted his head off the cold window and stared at the reflection of the silhouetted apparition standing behind him. He smiled at the figure as another tear soaked his orange mask. His father’s height had always mezmerized him. To a young child, Splinter was like a giant. Always so strong and formidable. Yet he was the first in the family to fall. Forever lost to them…

No! He wasn’t gone! Michelangelo slowly closed his eyes as the specter wrapped his arms around the turtle. He imagined the warmth of the fur tickling against his scaly skin, the strength of his powerful arms, the security that nothing can ever hurt him so long his father stood watch over him. While his father’s physical body may be gone, his spirit will always live inside of him. Michelangelo placed his hands over his heart as if all that he held dear would suddenly fly away. 

He opened his eyes, locking sights on his phantom father, and whispered, “Because of all the memories I keep lock in here, you’ll forever live in my heart, Otousan.”


	3. Skraeling

Skraeling

Nothingness. Complete emptiness. All logic lost. They must have somehow stepped in some sort of surreal alternate universe. None of this could have been real. They were not on a spaceship. They had not battled alien anthropomorphic dinosaurs. Shredder had not allied forces with them just to murder Sensei.

Tears blinded his vision at that last thought. His heart ached as if he was the one stabbed instead of his father. Donatello sat in the command room, hoping to distract his thoughts with the immense control panel with the numerous buttons, dials, and levers. The one console piloted the craft, controlled the weapon system, adjust internal climate, and more functions for him to discover. In front of him were multiple screens. The biggest held the view of the vast outer space filled with the immeasurable number of stars. Yet all the glittering gas balls along with the flashing lights on the panel blurred into one obscure, wavy blob. None of this should have happened. How did it all go so wrong?

Misunderstandings! That’s all any of this was. Just one big misunderstanding. A case of things getting lost in translation. 

When Raph first found Zog, the Triceraton was sick and barely coherent, but it was clear they were on the same side. They had a common enemy – the Kraang. Yet because of Raph’s inability to think through consequences, they had been labeled as threats. No, not them – the entire planet got blacklisted. Charged with harboring the Kraang – providing sanctuary to criminals. In the end an entire planet was destroyed by an invading force; it didn’t matter whether it was at the hands of the Kraang or Triceraton. 

All this mess because of one alien race who were looking for a better planet to live on. What was it like when the first Kraang had arrived? Was it hostile from the beginning? Was it peaceful between them and the humans? Did they too have a misunderstanding that precipitated into the current madness he and his brothers had to manage? But was this not the history of Earth anyway? After all this was the planet plagued with invasions and colonization of foreign lands along with their inability to settle matters with civilized dialogue. Open-minded dialogue was beyond human capability though – a species too easy fearful of anyone they do not understand. This was the same mentality that had forced his family to remain in the sewers for fifteen years.

\- 5 years ago -

“It’s not fair!”

“But why?”

“The sewers smell bad!”

Splinter had been bombarded with the many protests from his stubborn sons. In their younger years it had been simpler to express the many dangers that lurked on the surface and his boys dutifully conceded to his wise advice. They had readily accepted his words and moved on. However, as they grew older, the young turtles began developing skills in rationalizing and negotiating their terms to visit the world above.

“But we’re bigger now. Ten-year-old boys walk the streets all the time.”

“We know ninjitsu. We’ll be safe. We know how to protect ourselves.”

“We’ll go one block around and come back. It’ll be super quick. Pleeeeeaaase!”

Each year the boys grew more persistent and their arguments steadily evolved into more logical reasons to why they should see the city. The boys were indeed growing up too fast yet they were far too young to understand his concerns. Each attempt was finally thwarted with a stern “no!” and that ended any and all future discussions….at least until the next year’s mutation day.

After the exhausting verbal sparring, Splinter treated his boys to the rare box of donuts before sending the boys to bed, deep in a sugar induced food coma. All but for Donatello. Instead he laid beneath his sheets until he was certain his father was fast asleep. Splinter was known to meditate before bed. If Donatello moved too soon, Splinter’s keen hearing would detect him well before he made it to the lair’s exit. The turtle stared at the clock he made himself, suddenly wishing he had added in the function to count seconds. The minutes on the digital clock changed at an agonizingly slow pace.

Midnight – Finally!

Donatello bolted out of bed and pressed his ear against the door. Silence. The turtle wished he had a snake camera like in the spy movies so he could investigate the happenings outside his door. Alas, he was forced to rely on deductive reasoning. No light filtered under the door. It was reasonable to assume that Splinter was asleep or at the least in his bedroom. Mustering all of his stealth training, Donatello pushed the door open enough to slide his body through and tiptoed out of the lair. However, the moment he stepped past the outermost perimeter Donatello raced as fast as his legs could carry him. Once he reached his destination, he grabbed his cramping side and gasped for breath. His heart felt like exploding and he wondered if his wobbly legs would even be able carry him back home. Right now it didn’t matter though. Donatello stared at where the moon filtered through the grate and illuminated a small portion of the sewer. The turtle lingered in the shadows waiting to be certain no human still lingered. He was not completely sure how the human world operated though. Donatello knew some human jobs had specific day time hours, like teachers. Some worked at night – security guards was the only one he could think of. Would a security guard be patrolling these areas? He couldn’t say. In all honesty, despite the teasing of his brothers, Donatello did not in fact know everything.

The little turtle stared as dust specks danced in the moonlight. He wrung his hands as he searched for his courage to scale the ladder just beyond the light beam.

“Come on, Donnie!” He whispered to himself. “You can do it! It’ll be the perfect birthday gift to yourself.”

The tech savvy turtle closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like to have his very own computer. To be able to surf the internet – the world’s library at his fingertips. A giant smile pulled his lips from ear to ear, giddy as the proverbial schoolboy. He had been looking forward to this day for the past week. Donatello’s most recent project yielded a fully functioning, refurbished television that, at the moment, can only pick up local channels but those channels produced cartoons in the morning and news in the evening. A win for everyone! Early in the week the local morning news announced an electronic recycling event hosted by the municipality. While the small tv was a convenient find that Splinter managed to loot from the nearby alley, it was nothing compared to the treasure trove the event would produce. Donatello had calculated that based on the newly released phone and computer models that he could find highly functional and current technology…unlike the boxy television probably was built in the 80s. His heart fluttered at the thought.

Donatello inhaled a deep calming breath and exhaled resolutely. “It’s now or never. Get that computer!”

The pep talk seemed to have provided all the courage he needed for Donatello dashed over to the ladder. He quickly ascended and carefully pushed against the manhole cover. Donatello moved slowly to maintain silence but his arm trembled violently under the weight of the metal lid. Once the side he pushed cracked open to reveal the world above, Donatello carefully surveyed the area. Clear straight ahead. Donatello then turned in time to see a large truck rumbling towards him. Brick red eyes widened in terror and he froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Fortunately his arm acted on its own accord and released the manhole cover. The lid slammed down, banging his head. Donatello lost his grip and landed hard on his carapace. Air rushed instantly out of his lungs, leaving the turtle to gasp for air. With a loud groan, Donatello finally pushed himself up to a sitting position and stared at the lid.

_That was close…could have been much worse._

Donatello walked back to the grate and stared at the moonlight. At least he knew that people did work a night shift at the recycling center. But how exactly how active was the area at this time?

A distant whistling floated through to answer his question. As the whistling grew louder, Donnie retreated back into the shadows but his eyes never left the grate. Footsteps clicked overhead – a steady heal to toe gait. Before long, the figure appeared in Donatello’s line of vision. A man dressed in a dark uniform. His flashlight moved steadily from side to side as the man studied his environment. As the man walked, an object bounced against his hip, catching Donatello’s eye. A gun! The turtle gulped at the sight. Was that really necessary? Cops had guns. Did being a security guard warrant such weaponry? Maybe he was a cop….maybe thugs routinely infiltrate these sites. Stealing scraps and appliances must have made good money for those people. Or maybe gangs have used scrap yards to make shady deals and the city amp up security in this dump sites. 

The rapid pounding of excitement in his heart quickly transformed into fear. Bright eyes grew sullen as his plans have officially been thwarted. His smile fell into a frown and once the security guard was long gone, Donatello trudged home empty handed and heavy hearted.

. . .

“Ugh!” 

Donatello banged his head against his desk with a heavy thud. He could barely concentrate on his math pages even though he sequestered himself to his bedroom to avoid the massive distractions that came with the territory of having three brothers. Sleep deprivation didn’t make matters any better. Nor was the rude wakening Mikey decided to deliver by dumping cold water on his face. Eyelids slowly closed. A deep snore instantly woke him back up and he shot straight back up to sitting position. Disoriented Donnie had to regain his bearings and finally remembered that he was in his own bedroom.

“Donatello.”

Despite the familiar, gentle voice, Donatello couldn’t help but jump out of his seat at the sudden intrusion. The turtle never handled surprises well and thus his disdain for Mikey’s practical jokes. Donatello turned around to find Splinter sitting on his bed. When did he sneak in?!

“My son, why are you so tired this morning?”

“I didn’t sleep very well,” Donnie replied with a slight yawn. 

Splinter studied his son’s face as if sensing the young turtle was not offering the full truth. Donatello however held no sign of deception…after all, the statement was factual.

“Perhaps you would sleep better if you adhere to your assigned bedtime instead of one o’clock in the morning.”

There – the shocked, widened eyes. His secret was not as concealed as he had thought. It was all the confession Splinter needed from his son.

“Tell me, Donatello, why had you snuck out last night?”

“H…how…how did you know?”

“I followed you.”

The most observant, analytical, scientifically-oriented mind failed to notice he was followed by a master ninja the entire time. Donatello sighed while he fumbled with the pencil in his hand.

“Yesterday, the city had organized an electronic recycling event. People were just throwing out their outdated technology. I wanted to see if I can find anything good. Like a computer. I thought it would be cool and useful. If I can figure out how to connect to the internet, we would have access to so much more information and learn more about the world. I thought it would be a great way to expand our world beyond the sewers.”

Splinter carefully listened to his son’s words and nodded at key points.

“So why did you not venture to the surface?”

“I fell and hurt myself.”

“Hm. So if you quit so readily, why have you not quit ninjitsu every time Raphael torture you with painful limb-locks? I see the pain on your face while trying to avoid saying ‘mercy.’ Even though you do end up conceding you have yet to give up on your training. So why did you give up so easily this time?”

Donatello bit his lip, afraid to offend the former human.

“Because of the security guard. He had a gun, and I was afraid that maybe he would use it if he caught me.”

Splinter’s face softened and his ears drooped slightly.

“What about the man made you think he would have hurt you?”

“Well, I figured that if he needed to carry a gun that maybe criminals tend sneak in to steal things. Maybe they have had encounters with the local gangs and need the protection. If I spooked him by accident, maybe his first reaction would be to use his gun…especially with creatures like us. Humans tend to have adverse reactions to things they don’t understand.”

Splinter quirked an eyebrow at the statement. “What do you mean by adverse reactions?”

“When the Europeans met the African tribes, because they didn’t understand their culture and they looked different, the Europeans viewed the Africans as an inferior race and forced them into the slave trade. It wasn’t too much different when the colonist came to the Americas and stole land from the Native Americans and forced the tribes to move. Humans fear what they don’t understand. It’s in their history books. On the surface, I would be the strange foreigner walking into their land. I don’t look like them and they wouldn’t understand what I am. It is reasonable to fear the interaction wouldn’t end well.”

“Is that why every year while your brothers beg to go to the surface, you remain silent?”

The turtle nodded matter-of-factly. Splinter sighed and reached under Donatello’s blanket. As his hand withdrew, a small black laptop was revealed. It wasn’t as current model as Donatello had hoped but he can definitely make do with it. A huge grin spread across his face and he tackled the rat with a tight hug.

“Find a way to connect to the internet and expand your world, Donatello. Humans may end up surprising you. While it is true humans have had a violent history, they also have many wonders to share with you.”

\- Present Day –

True to Splinter’s promise Donnie had found many aspects of the human culture to be marvelous. Their architecture – those pyramids were nothing short of a mathematical and engineering ingenuity. The various (and often accidental) scientific discoveries. The art – Donatello too thought the Renaissance was a spectacular time period with many inventions in addition to the beautiful artwork. The more he researched the more excited he became to explore the surface world himself.

The day of his fifteenth mutation day the four brothers finally ascended into the unknown world – strangers in a foreign land. They didn’t know what to expect. The plan was never to make contact with the humans – just explore and go home. That day changed their life forever – much like meeting Zog also changed their life forever. A single moment of distrust precipitated into a domino effect that ended with Splinter’s death. They were all helpless as they watch Shredder’s blade penetrate through their father’s body, like a knife through butter. The act happened so quickly and seemed to cut too easily. The scent of Splinter’s blood still lingered on is plastron though the blood had dried. 

Donatello always knew he was the weakest of his brothers. He knew fighting Shredder was beyond his ability. But maybe if he could have perceived the deception sooner, acted faster, Splinter wouldn’t have had to die. Perhaps if he was stronger like Raph or strategic like Leo or nimble like Mikey, maybe…just maybe he could have saved his father. But Donnie knew he was nothing more than the brainiac weakling.

“I’m sorry, Otousan, but I fear that my heart may have quit ninjitsu long ago. I knew I would never be as strong as Raph. I guess passion for the martial arts was not as strong as it should have been. I focused all my time on compensating my physical deficiencies with my inventions. I relegated myself to the stereotypical weak nerd…and thus…I failed you.”

Tears finally spilled over and streamed down his cheeks. Hugging his arms over the console, Donatello buried his head into the crook of his elbow, concealing his shame from the heavens.

A/N: Phew! Took me a while to come up with a Donnie centric story but wanted to get this done first before I tackle Leo. Some notes to help this to make more sense. Skraeling is a Norse term that has two meanings both of which are used in this fic. First, Skraeling is used to denote a foreigner, originally used to describe “barbaric” indigenous people the Vikings encountered in Greenland as chronicled in the Vinland Saga. Skraeling is also used to describe a weakling (as the indigenous people were smaller framed and thus seen as fragile compared to Norsemen). The inspiration for this fic came from the song Skraeling by Leaves’ Eyes, which talks about the first encounter between the Vikings and the indigenous Thule).


	4. Stairway to the Skies

Stairway to the Skies

Breathe in…sloooowly. Breathe out – steady. Breathe in…

_Slice!_

Breathe out….

_Thump, thump. Why does it sound like my heart is beating in my ears?_

Breathe in….

_Why is there…? Is that….blood?_

Breathe out…breathe, breathe…Dammit!

_Noooo!_

Gasp!

Clenching his eyes tightly, Leonardo doubled over and coughed fiercely having choked on his own saliva. Spittle sprinkled the floor as he hacked violently. Soon the coughs transformed into sobs as tears flooded his eyes and trailed down his cheeks. Why? Why did it happen? Why did any of this have to happen? And why only to them? 

If only he had the situation under control, Sensei wouldn’t have joined in the battle. Sensei wouldn’t have sought the help of such a dishonorable man as Oroku Saki. The Shredder was indeed a true ninja – down to the bone. Cunning, opportunistic, manipulative, and most importantly deceptive. He should have warned Sensei against aligning with Shredder. He should have stopped him! But it would have been dishonorable to question his teacher…his father. So he obeyed Splinter, and they all paid the ultimate price.

Each time he closed his eyes to meditate, visions of Splinter’s final moments flashed before him but in agonizingly slow motion. Leonardo recalled fighting the Triceratons, holding them off while Splinter raced toward the Black Hole Generator. He had turned just in time to witness Shredder closing the gap between him and Splinter. His long silver blades penetrated through Splinter’s body so swiftly, so easily. Blood smeared the length of the blades and stained Splinter’s yukata. In one swift motion, it was all over. Leonardo saw the betrayal clearly in Splinter’s eyes, wondering why…why couldn’t the rivalry be put to rest just for that one moment? That one moment in which the Earth could have been saved. That one moment that the whole human race could have been spared. But no! The selfish bastard just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie. A pride so damaged by envy that he would sacrifice an entire planet to settle the score wrought by the rivalry over a women – a women Shredder himself murdered! Letting out an anguished cry, Leonardo slammed both of his fists against the cold metal floor. The impact sent shockwaves deep into his bone; however the pain didn’t even come close to his heartache. 

“It shouldn’t have ended that way. Splinter shouldn’t have been sacrificed…it should have been me.”

* * *

Darkness enveloped him. There were sounds but muffled - utterly incoherent. He felt light, like he was floating. Hold on! Why was it so wet?

Heavy eyelids slowly fluttered open and landed on a wall of peeling white pain. He didn’t recognize the room. The walls were not stony like in the sewers though the room did have a similar damp, moldy scent. His eyes scanned further until they landed on Raph’s slumped form, his head buried deep in his hands.

“Raph?”

His voice was so hoarse to the point he didn’t recognize his own words. And it hurt like hell to speak. Like razors cutting his throat.

“Leo?” Raph’s voice quivered, not believing the sight before him.

Leo tried to sit up but slipped, sloshing water over the side of the porcelain tub. He almost sank below the water but was saved by his brother’s strong arms caught him.

“Don’t move so much, Leo. You’re week. You’ve been in a coma all this time…”

“Exactly…how long is ‘all this time?’” Leo’s voice continued to crack, straining to get the sounds out.

“Three months.”

Confusion filled his eyes. Three months? How was that possible? Had he really taken such a bad beating? Honestly, Leo couldn’t remember much from that day. He recalled fighting the Foot completely solo. The last thing he saw was Shredder. Then it all went pitch black. Scrunching up his face, Leo strained to think back further in time. How did he even meet up with the Foot…why was he alone? Oh right, they had split up. Their lair was attacked, there were too many Kraang. He was the distraction – so his family could escape. 

“Donnie! Mikey! Are they okay?!”

Leo frantically tried to sit up but couldn’t grip the side of the tub properly. Raph had to pin Leo’s back against the tub hurt himself.

“Relax, Leo! They’re just fine. I’ll go call for them. Donnie is gonna want to examine you anyway.”

Raph rushed to the door and called downstairs. His gruff voice echoed throughout the whole house causing Leo to flinch. His head pounded with each of Raph’s words. Soon the room was filled with the stampede of several footsteps racing up the staircase. His relieved, teary-eyed family appeared; everyone inquiring all at once about how he felt. Mikey nearly tackled him with a bear hug. Thankfully Raph swiftly intervened. Leo wasn’t sure if he could have survived the smothering. As he surveyed the faces, there was one he did not see.

“Where’s Sensei?”

Everyone’s face simultaneously fell. Each one suddenly avoided eye contact with him.

“What happened?” he whispered – not really by choice. 

“We really should get you out of there and examine you,” Donnie insisted, pleading with his eyes not to inquire anymore until afterwards.

Leo sighed and nodded. He didn’t have the energy to argue. However as Donnie fussed over him he realized he didn’t have any patience either. He only half-listened as he Donnie described the improvements to his overall health compared to how broken he was months prior. The wealth of information was enough to make his head spin…or was it from a lack of nutrients?

“So,” Leo ventured to open the subject. “What happened after we split up?”

Donnie sighed, knowing he can’t wiggle his way out of this. He recounted escaping the sewers, meeting up with Raph, and the fight between Splinter and Shredder. The fight was intense and evenly matched for a long time. It seemed Splinter had won at first, injuring Shredder, but a sucker punch turned the tide. In the end, Shredder flushed Splinter…..literally! Leo felt bile rise into his throat. He wanted to hurl but refused to show his distraught – not in front of his brothers. They needed him to be strong. Thus he began to plant the seed of hope that Splinter must still be alive. A master ninja like Hamato Yoshi would not be so easily beat. There was no hard evidence that he died. In fact he was more than capable of holding his breath for extended periods of time.

Over the next several days, Leo worked hard to plant the same seed of hope in himself. Yet it was hard to find the light. Physically he was in pain – constantly! Every movement hurt and with each passing day he seemed to hurt more rather than healing. Emotionally he was empty. Unable to keep pace with his brothers and with no one to turn to his morale continuously sunk further into an abyss. Anytime he had been in distress he would always turn to his father for guidance. The first time he had a nightmare, his father was there. When he lost his temper for the first time and punched Raph across the face (not in self-defense), Father was there to iron the wrinkles in their relationship. When he had doubts as a leader, Father’s sage words helped him keep his sanity no matter how much his brothers drove him bat shit crazy. Now Leo needed his father more than ever. 

That all of his despair disappeared after their spirit quest. In that one moment Splinter’s soul had reached out to them, reassured them, gave them the strength to move forward. It was the light Leo needed to begin healing both physically and mentally. At long last he found his courage to lead his brothers and friends back to New York City, reunite their family, and defeat the Kraang. 

Returning home after the battle was a bit surreal. The leftover devastation brought flashbacks of the invasion along with all of the fear and the pain. Fear for his family’s safety. Pain from the fight with the Foot. The obstinate stubbornness of taking on Shredder alone. And finally the heartache of nearly losing everything. Leo looked around as his family cleaned up pieces of broken furniture and sweeping up dust and glass. 

Turning his gaze upward, Leo watched as Mikey hid in what the family called the “floating stairwell” and unleashed a water balloon on Raph’s head. Leo stifled his laughter as Raph yelled threats against their foolish brother’s life, but the threats and obscenities ceased after a well-placed pressurized touch under the jaw. Ouch! Leo knew how that felt having earned a few of those behavior altering treatments.

Moving his chores into the dojo, Leo shook his head at the disarray. Weapons usually neatly organized were littering the floor. Burn marks dotted the tatami. The tree was now scarred with cuts and laser burns but still stood strong. He turned to the shrine that honored the Hamato family. The shelves were not only bare, but broken. All the contents were strewn about all over the floor. Shattered glass no longer protected the pictures in the frame. Leo picked up the family portrait with baby Miwa and stared at it. He was so lost in his thoughts, hypnotized with the family frozen in time, that he did not hear Splinter approach from behind.

“Is everything alright, my son?”

Leo nearly jumped out of his shell. He quickly gathered up other fallen items and proceeded to brush the tiny glass fragments into the dustpan.

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s okay,” he lied. 

Leo guiltily bit his lip. The turtle had never been a good liar; his conscience wouldn’t allow it. Avoiding eye contact, he expected Splinter to catch him on his fib but his sensei remained silent. Eventually hearing Splinters footsteps retreat from the dojo, Leo slowly sighed out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

The rest of the day was spent in awkward silence as the cleaning continued. By the end of the night, the family made a lot of progress and yet it seemed they barely put a dent into the effort. The lair was a mess but less chaotic then when they first entered. Broken belongings cluttered the space salting the wounds of their once happy memories. The dinner table rang with stories of the past, punctuated with saddened laughter as they attempted to focus only on happier days. The brothers didn’t eat much with the exception of Mikey, but Leo definitely ate the least. His stomach churned so much, Leo wasn’t sure if he could keep his meal down at all. The knot in his stomach lasted well into bedtime. Twisting and turning, slumber eluded the turtle. Each time he closed his eyes, Leo was haunted by the night of the invasion. Shredder stood before him and in a matter of seconds Shredder had struck him down so easily – Leo never stood the chance. His brothers were left to fend for themselves; he couldn’t even be there to help them! What kind of leader was he when he didn’t lead his family through the invasion?! He was utterly decrepit! Useless!

Several minutes passed as guilt and failure tormented him. With a frustrated growl, Leo finally flung his blanket off and dragged himself out of bed, trudging his way toward the kitchen. Perhaps warm milk will be the prescription to beacon sleep. As he entered the family room, he paused as a thin sliver of light caught his attention. Leo followed it to the doors of the dojo. He pressed his tympanum against the door but didn’t hear anything. Leo bit his lip unsure if he should investigate further. What if Sensei forgot to turn the lights off before falling asleep? Then again what if he was in there and didn’t want to be bothered? If Sensei was meditating he would only be intruding…

“Ack!”

Due to the unexpected shift of balance when the door slid open, Leo landed on the floor with a hard thud. The tatami provided minimal protection against the concrete floor below it. He should have been used to it with his years of sparring in the dojo but he usually is able to compensate with the anticipation of the impact. Leo sat up and was startled by Splinter’s sudden appearance just inches away from his face.

“Why are you up so late, Leonardo?” 

Unable to decipher whether his tone was suspicious or curious, Leonardo settled on studying Splinter’s face for clues to his mood. His eyes were reddened as if he had not been sleeping well….or perhaps crying. Peering past him, Leo noticed that the shelves replaced on the wall with Splinter’s family pictures, decorated with various relics to honor the deceased.

“Leonardo…?”

“How did you do it?” The young turtle interrupted, his gaze never leaving the shrine.

“What do you mean?

“How did you pick up the pieces and move on? I mean you had lost everything. Betrayed by the man you called brother. Watched as he murdered your family. How was it you didn’t get consumed by agony and rage no sunk into depression? How did you find the strength to start over? Move to America? Raise a family? Become our ninja master?”

The rambling seemed like it wouldn’t end. A floodgate was opened, spilling over all the emotions that he had internalized all of this time. And the one shielding his eyes threatened to do the same.

“My son…”

“I couldn’t do it,” Leo continued, not registering his father’s voice at all. “I was so pathetic. Weak. I couldn’t take care of the clan. I couldn’t protect them properly during the invasion. After I awoke from the coma, I couldn’t even train the family properly. I fell completely apart when I wasn’t healing fast enough. I was too impatient and frustrated that I kept pushing to my limits only to set myself back more. Raph, on the other hand; he kept his cool the whole time. He took care of everyone – led them to safety. Tended to my wounds. Trained everyone else – actually trained properly too. Not that random burst of brawny strength he loves to pull. That stubborn jerk actually made a great leader. Calm, collected, and respectable.” Leo lowered his gaze and mumbled, “Why did you even choose me to begin with, Sensei?”

“Leonardo,” Splinter began but was immediately cut off.

“Don’t!...Please! I want a real answer. Not the one you gave last time.”

Splinter closed his eyes, knowing full well what he was referring to and sighed.

“Leonardo, have I ever told you about my father?”

The turtle quirked an eyebrow but responded curiously, “A little. I know he was the one who spared Oroku Saki in the last war with the Foot. Other than that, you’ve never really talked about him.”

“Father used to be a strong man – both emotionally and physically. He led the Hamato clan with fierce discipline yet with humility and grace. He was everything I envisioned I should strive to be as I was growing up. There was one problem – Saki was older than I and therefore destined to lead the clan.”

Blue eyes widened as Leo’s mouth opened slightly as he pondered the revelation. 

“But he wasn’t really…well….a Hamato though.”

“True, however at the time I did not know that. Remember, Saki was raised as my brother. He, nor I for that matter, knew the truth of his origin. Not for many years. Not until it was too late…” Releasing a heavy sigh, Splinter paused to collect his thoughts. 

“As the cancer ravaged his body, Father increasingly grew frail. Always cognizant of his mortality, each decision he made was nothing more than another cobblestone set, paving the road for the Hamato clan’s future. That included choosing the proper leader. Naturally, with Saki older, he should have been the one chosen to lead the clan. And while Saki was an excellent ninja – swift, skillful, master of deception – he was also brash, hard headed, and acted on his own accord with no regard for anyone else’s well-being. It was that very attitude that had doomed his and Shen’s relationship. Father knew with Saki in charge the Hamato clan would have been led down a dark, dangerous road. Therefore Father announced that I would take over the clan after he passes and then began grooming me. Of course Saki’s pride was wounded in the process. Since that day, he found every reason to test my resolve – questioning every decision I made, humiliating me in front of our peers, the students whom I was destined to lead. He even encouraged them to make my life as difficult as possible. He rationalized it would make me a stronger leader but the ordeal served for his entertainment alone. He was determined to make me earn the title leader or break me in process. Perhaps he hoped that Father would eventually see me as the weak link and change his mind. But in reality, Saki would never have functioned rationally especially if put the under pressure to make hard decisions within a matter of seconds.

“Leonardo, I chose you because you were always the quick thinker. When presented with stressful situations, you would keep her head on your shoulders and carefully calculate your next move. You know how to evaluate your options and choose what is best for the whole group – what will protect the family. You have proven that time and again. Your brothers would not have made it safely out of the city if it wasn’t for you bating the Kraang after you. As for Raphael, he certainly has grown as an individual and proved he can lead during time of peace, but could Raphael make the same quick, difficult decisions under dire circumstances. He also has proven that he can break under pressure, take brash actions while only considering his capabilities while at the potential expense of others. In some ways, Raphael reminds me of Saki, a less ruthless version, but nonetheless not the one meant to lead the family.”

Biting his lip and mulled over Splinter’s words. “But I was so helpless when I was injured. I became even more so when I reaffirmed my own insecurities. How did you overcome your doubts? ”

Stroking his beard Splinter tried to recall his thought process from sixteen years ago.

“Some of that time is a blur. I remember burying my father and my wife. I never had found Miwa’s body…we of course now understand why. At that time I was not thinking of what would come next. I just knew I had to leave Japan so I went the furthest I could think of – halfway around the world. For many nights I did find myself alone in my roach infested apartment sulking about the past. I tried hard to start a new life and in many ways I felt like an infant learning about my new world. I just lived day to day with little purpose. That is until the day I passed by a pet shop with a sale on baby turtles. That day I looked for companionship and left with a purpose. The four of you had saved me from my demons and we became family. As you boys grew up, I knew one day I too would have to pass on the torch to one of you.”

“Don’t pass that torch too soon,” Leo mumbled though louder than he intended.

“My son, we are all mortals. It is an inevitability we cannot alter. Once our paths crossed with the Kraang and Foot, I knew our lives would always be in limbo. Even if we survive these wars, my story will end long before yours. You must find the strength to continue leading in my absence. It is your duty, Leonardo.”

. . .

Tears continued to trickle down his cheeks. Never had he thought he would bear this burden so soon. Their first brush with death turned out to be a fluke but this time…

Leo closed his eyes and envisioned Splinter’s body resting in his arms. He had peered into Splinter’s eyes as they grew heavy. His soul has seeped away in a matter of seconds. Opening his eyes, he gazed at Splinter’s dried blood smeared on his plastron. While the scent of fresh blood was nauseating, the dried blood served as a sick reminder of how evil truly has no limit.

Bang!

Cringing, Leo’s eyes darted to the adjacent wall. Despite the commotion Raph had been making all of this time, Leo had managed to drown most of it out…too lost in his thoughts to acknowledge that he was not the only one suffering. Leo made no attempt to check on him when he first heard the screams, the swearing, and the constant, rapid pounding. What could he have said anyway? Sorry for not running quicker. Sorry for not talking him out of signing a contract with the devil. Sorry that Father was dead. Surely instead of pounding on a steel wall Raph would have opted for Leo’s face. Releasing a heavy sigh, Leo averted his eyes back to the floor. Actually he hadn’t made any attempt to speak to any of his brothers. Their hearts were too heavy. Each one needed time to process but when was the right moment to talk to any of them? Leo snorted in derision. His first crisis and he had no idea what to do. Some leader he was.

Leo sat for what felt like eternity sulking in his sorrow, contemplating what he should have done differently, analyzing each move. Was there a single instance that would have changed the outcome? The metal reverberations had finally ceased, leaving him in complete silence. Absolutely alone in his thoughts. Yet somehow the chance to actually think seemed to torture the youngster more. Leo sat up and attempted to clear his mind so he could meditate. Perhaps clarity would help sort things out.

Deep inhale in….

Knock, knock, knock.

A frustrated growl emanated from his throat as a round of angry tears threatened to spill. Could he not have a moment of peace?! However his anger melted away the minute the metal door slid open and Mikey stood in the entryway.

“Hey, Bro,” Mikey whispered hoarsely. His crystal blue eyes now had a blood shot ring surrounding the iris. Dried salty trails discolored his skin with weirdly tinted streaks. Leo’s heart broke for him. Mikey normally found the silver lining in any situation and yet he looked so defeated…except for a slight glint in his eyes. Leo had come to recognize that hopeful glint. It was the same spark that would dance in his eyes whenever he tried to keep secrets and play nonchalant but failed miserably at it.

“How are you doing?” Leo carefully probed his brother.

“Feel pretty crappy. Head hurts. My eyes sting. Guess it’s expected. It was worse earlier. Bawled my eyes out. Hadn’t done that in a long time. But…”

“But?”

Mikey stared into Leo’s eyes as if measuring his next move.

“We have…I mean, that robot dude….uh…well…there’s a solution,” Mikey finally spat out. A way to make things right…”

“Make what right?” Leo tilted his head in confusion.

“Everything! Save Earth. Save Otousan! All of it!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not completely sure,” Mikey admitted sheepishly. “But that robot guy who saved us. He found me earlier and told me that we change everything. Bring Earth back. I’ve been looking for you since he told me. We have to go to the bridge. Robot dude said he’ll tell us everything once we’re all together.”

Unsure if he was walking the fine line between a dream world and reality, Leo did not move for the next few moments. Weighing his options, Leo risked disappointment if the little robot was not speaking truthfully and thus breaking the heart of his brothers. Yet if there was a way…maybe, just maybe it was a valid risk to take. So there he stood at a crossroad. And then, he finally rose, resolving to take the leap of faith. For if each step he took meant another step closer to retrieving his father, he would gladly ascend the stairways to the skies just to bring Otousan home.

A/N: Took a while but I finally completed Leo’s POV and I felt I finally found the write ending to wrap up the four-part story. Now I can fully focus on Becoming Splinter (which was recently nominated for an award!) and Paths We Follow. Can’t wait to dive back into these two fics! Hope you did enjoy the Leo fic! Just like the previous fics, the inspiration for this came in the form of a song, “Stairway to the Skies” by Within Temptation. I thought about imbedding the lyrics and turn this into a songfic but thought it may detract from the story too much. If you have a chance please find the song and listen to the lyrics. This fic completely came as I was listening to it while driving to work. I feel it really fit Leo well.


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